Chapter 1

The Foster Child

Caroline was not talking to the police again. No way in hell. So, she pretended to sleep while the unfamiliar voices muffled through her bedroom door. Sandra was no doubt playing host downstairs. She was very good at it. You could always count on her to slap on a smile for a houseguest, no matter how ominous the company. She even baked cookies; Caroline could smell it.

Typically, this would have been enough to lift her out of bed and down the stairs, but not today. She had no intention of walking into the hornet’s nest. Maybe, if she pretended to sleep long enough, the crowd might disperse, and she could come down in time for dinner. She’d be happy to eat whatever combination of canned vegetables Sandra concocted as long as she didn’t have to answer any more questions.

Caroline had already talked to the Waycross Police three times in the past week. Once at the hospital the morning after the abductions, again a day later in the police chief’s office, and then during a house visit two days ago to follow up on some ‘inconsistencies.’ The detective was careful to soften his tone while poking holes in her story. He told her it was understandable to misremember some key details after surviving a traumatic ordeal, even going as far as apologizing for not quoting her accurately. Like it was his fault. It was Caroline’s fault. She had lied through her teeth.

She made mistakes that a seasoned criminal might find laughable like not committing small details of her story to memory, or inventing most of her bullshit on the fly while the adrenaline from the night was still pumping. After the questioning at the police station a day later, she knew she had failed her follow-up exam. Now, the chickens had come home to roost. Whatever the hell that meant.

Caroline could imagine the scene playing out downstairs. A couple of cops with ties, maybe a uniformed sheriff, sitting around the kitchen table sipping coffee and nibbling on Tollhouse. They were probably wondering at what point they could bypass Donna Reed and march straight up to the girl’s room. This round of questioning would be an interrogation.

Knock Knock

The door opened.

“Caroline, honey, I need you to wake up and talk to these men,” Sandra said from the doorway. She used that tone of voice reserved for when others could hear. It was gentle and kind. She never really talked like that, and Caroline hated the act.

The two men followed Sandra into the bedroom. One tall, the other stocky. Both had kind smiles. The energy shift was unexpected. If they were police, Caroline would have known it immediately. In the past week, she’d become intimately familiar with the tension that radiated off cops like bad B-O. She associated it with the color red. With these two men, there was none of that—only a calming shade of light blue.

The tall one had a mustache that extended down to his chin, and he wasn’t shy about making himself at home in Caroline’s space. He sat at the foot of the bed, forcing her to sit up. The stocky man stood against the wall, clutching a briefcase. He never spoke.

“Hello, Caroline, I’m Dr. H.L. Sullen, and this is Mr. Goffagon, my assistant. We’re very excited to meet you.” 

Doctor? Did Sandra call someone to have my head examined? It wouldn’t be the first time a foster parent deemed her defective. Sandra’s house was her third in four years, and she was suspecting her act was running thin here as well.

“We read about you in the newspaper. You’re quite an extraordinary young woman. We explained to your mother downstairs that I’m a doctor, not the kind that cures the body, but one that helps the mind.”

Mother? Caroline had never once called Sandra that.

“What’s wrong with my mind?” Caroline asked.

“Absolutely nothing. The opposite. We think there’s a chance, based on what your mother has told us, that your mind has a special way of operating. The way you think and how you see the world.”

If Sandra wanted to get rid of her for good, this was the playbook—first, the doctors, then the diagnosis, and then the facility.

“You’re skeptical. And that’s okay,” Dr. Sullen continued. “I’m going to ask you some questions. I’d love to learn more about you.”

“About the night of the—?” Sandra cut in.

“No, nothing like that. Not yet anyway. You can sit next to Caroline if it makes her more comfortable.” Dr. Sullen motioned to the bed.

“She’s fine,” Sandra said. Caroline didn’t want her sitting on the bed or standing in her room. They had well established that in their time together.

“How old are you?” Dr. Sullen smiled.

“Fifteen.”

“How long have you lived here with your new mother?” Dr. Sullen paused in anticipation of Caroline’s answers, but Sandra quickly filled in the blanks.

“Eight and a half months,” Sandra said.

“Mrs. Hammerlock, please let Caroline answer.” He softened his eyes toward Caroline like she was a flower that could wilt at any moment.

“Eight months,” Caroline confirmed.

“Does your birth mother know your whereabouts?”

“I don’t know.”

“She doesn’t, and that’s by court order,” Sandra buzzed.

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Hammerlock,” Dr. Sullen smiled and nodded. “This might work better one on one. Do you mind waiting outside? Kindly exit the room.”

Sandra looked at Caroline, concerned.

“It’s fine,” Caroline nodded.

“Okay then.” She scurried out and the door clicked behind her.

In that moment, Dr. Sullen elevated to mythic status. Caroline had been trying to get that woman out of her room for eight months. Sometimes kicking and screaming, other times pretending to be sick or sleeping. She didn’t hate Sandra; Caroline just had no interest in the mommy-daughter role play. Her school outfits were pre-planned. Always a dress, and always hanging from the doorknob of Caroline’s closet in the morning. Sandra enjoyed dressing her up like a doll and parading her around her social network of miserable homebodies. PTA moms who’d chain smoke and sip mimosas.

Dr. Sullen waited for Sandra’s footsteps to fade before speaking again.

“That’s much better, isn’t it? You don’t care for Mrs. Hammerlock, do you?” Dr. Sullen was proving good at reading a room. Caroline’s silence seemed enough of an answer.

“I understand what you’re going through. It’s hard to see things so clearly when the rest of the world is blindfolded. But you see very clearly, don’t you? Nobody could know the pain of being removed from a mother that you don’t remember and then bounced around this hideous foster system that dumps you on the doorsteps of strangers,” Dr. Sullen said while leaning in, and Caroline found herself falling into his piercing eyes. She quickly snapped out of it. This is ridiculous, she thought. He doesn’t know me.

“You be surprised what I know about you,” Dr. Sullen responded…to her thoughts? If he had caught her during any other week in her life, she would have dismissed it outright. But, after the night of the party at Jenny’s house, Caroline was willing to entertain anything.

You have a real mother, Caroline.

He said it with a deathly serious tone that scared her at first. But did he say it at all? She wasn’t sure whether his mouth moved. Dr. Sullen held serve, never breaking eyes for the length of their uncomfortable silence. As his colors grew warmer, and his face reverted to a polite smile, Caroline’s fear evaporated.

“You’ve recently experienced a traumatic event. The death of two girls from your school. You were one of the last people to see Jenny and Rachael alive.”

Caroline’s pulse pounded.

“You haven’t spoken to anyone about what happened the night of the party at Jenny’s house, have you?” Dr. Sullen asked.

“The police.”

“I mean the truth.”

“No.”

“Good girl. Most people wouldn’t understand. But some people do. Like myself and Mr. Goffagon here,” Dr. Sullen waved to his partner, who nodded. “You can talk to us about what you saw- or who you saw that night, and we’ll help you understand. At Jenny’s house, did you have an uninvited guest?”

“How—?”

“I know things, Caroline. You’d be surprised—the things I know.”

“I can’t…” Caroline blinked back tears.

“Nothing you say will leave this room. I know how to keep secrets.”

“She warned me not to.” Caroline shook her head and leaned back

“Did someone threaten you?”

“No. It’s just…I know how this goes, and I won’t check into another hospital.”

“You mean a mental hospital? What makes you think no one would believe you?”

Caroline searched the ceiling and considered. Not the answer to his question, but whether this was the moment to unload the lead weight around her neck.

“Because I’m the only one who saw her,” she said.

“Saw who?”

“The old woman.”

Dr. Sullen studied her.

“…were you frightened of this woman?”

“Yes.”

“Are you still frightened?”

“I see her face in my laundry pile. In the closet. When I close my eyes. I know it’s ridiculous, but sometimes I feel she’s watching me. That she’s been in my bedroom. I can still smell her.” Caroline’s voice shook and her cheeks reddened.

“Okay, okay, okay. You’re safe,” Dr. Sullen assured, picking up her hand. “There’s nobody here but you, me and Mr. Goffagon.”

Goffagon, again, nodded at the sound of his name.

“We believe you, Caroline. I think it’s time you talked about it. The truth. It’ll be our secret.”